


At the weirwood tree

by FedonCiadale



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, slighly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11438124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Jon explains his reasons for leaving to Dragonstone, but leaves out the most important reason.





	At the weirwood tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [To all my friends on tumblr who read my fics despite there being no smut in them (yet?)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=To+all+my+friends+on+tumblr+who+read+my+fics+despite+there+being+no+smut+in+them+%28yet%3F%29).



> Written for jonsa-countdown on tumblr, day 8 - free choice  
> Inspired by the trailer for season 7 - Sansa's walk away from the weirwood tree

Jon found his sister at the weirwood. Sansa had seemed collected and cool at the meeting. Like Lord Manderly she had argued against his leaving for Dragonstone, but while the portly lord had become rather heated, Sansa had reined herself in. The only sign of agitation Jon had seen had been the blood in her cheeks. After the meeting Davos had talked with him about preparations and by the time he had finished, Jon had been desperate to look for Sansa. He knew she was angry with him.

 _Although, how I can make her understand when I can’t tell her the truth?_ Still he doggedly looked for her. Her red hair stood out against the background of the weirwood. _I should have known to look in the godswood._

When he reached Sansa, she stood at the tree and leaned against it, her forehead touching a branch with snow, as if she wanted to cool it. She opened her eyes, when he arrived, and he thought he saw her lashes glistening. If she had been crying or if some of the occasional snowflakes had touched her, he could not say. The familiar longing to just take her in his arms, and maybe kiss her lashes raised its head and Jon stamped rigorously on the snake in his heart.

“You promised to protect me,” Sansa said. “How will you protect me, when you are not here?”

Her voice still held a hint of anger, but it was tinged with more sadness than Jon thought he could bear.

“I will come back.”, he said. _I protect you from myself. I can’t trust myself when you are so close to me._

“Father wanted to return to Winterfell, he never came back. My mother wrote Bran that she would return, I found her letters in the library. Robb wanted to return. It feels like I am the only Stark that ever came back from the South.”

Jon’s heart ached.

“I’m not a Stark,” he said, trying to make a joke of it.

Sansa’s eyes flashed with anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You are to me,” she said.

“Still, in the eyes of the world I am the bastard King Snow. It might help to avoid the ill luck.” Jon tried again to give their conversation a lighter note.

Sansa sighed and rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything.

“I want our bannermen to protect you and Winterfell. None of them wants to venture south and you know I can’t send Davos. We can’t risk this Dragon Queen to be offended because of his low birth. We know nothing about her,” Jon tried to reason with her.

“Don’t repeat your tedious arguments, Jon,” Sansa said. “I don’t care about the Dragon Queen. Good Queen Alysanne was the only Targaryen who did anything for the North, and that was centuries ago. This queen’s father killed our grandfather and uncle. Her brother raped our aunt Lyanna. Nothing good can come of it.”

“We’ve never needed dragonglass or dragons before.” Jon said.

“I’ve already conceded that point to you.” Sansa quipped and Jon thought he could see the shadow of a smile on her lips. “I still think, you should send someone else.”

“I could always send our trusted servant and ally, Lord Baelish Littlefinger,” Jon quipped. They both laughed at that until their laughter was killed by sudden silence.

Jon took Sansa’s hands in his, although he knew how dangerous that could be. His heart took up speed and he heard the blood rushing in his ears and he felt alive like he never did when Sansa was not near.

“Believe me, Sansa. I want to protect you and believe me, that I’m convinced that I can protect you and Winterfell best, when I leave. Many of the things you said are true and I will be very careful.” That was as close as he dared to touch the truth. _Would she be appalled if I told her that she needs protection from her half-brother who lusts after her._ He thought of that moment in the crypts when his temper had gotten the better of him. He still wanted to break Littlefinger’s neck. _I can hardly blame him for wanting Sansa, so do I._

“I believe that you want to protect me, Jon, but I’m not entirely sure, you can be good at it, if you’re not here,” Sansa said. Her eyes were locked searchingly at his and Jon tried his best not to look away, even though he was afraid Sansa would look at the bottom of his soul and see his shame.

“And,” she paused for a heartbeat and then carried on obviously with reluctance. “I think, that you hold something back. I feel, that there is something you do not tell me.” Her voice sounded strangely strained and her eyes glittered. “Is that so? Is there something else? Is there something you don’t tell me?”

Jon’s was reminded of the time he had taken a hard fall from his horse and the sheer ability to breathe had him left for a seemingly everlasting moment. _What to tell her?_

“You have become very observant.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Sansa said.

Jon took a deep breath, he felt like he might lose his footing on this thin ice.

“It’s not safe, if we are together. You know or rather we suspect, that Littlefinger is after me. If I leave he might think, that he can turn you against me. And for that, he will strengthen your position in any way he can. If I stay, he will undermine me and that only harms us. This way, we will use his own agenda to work for us. I know, you will not turn against me, but Littlefinger does not.”

Jon felt a surge of pride. That sounded as if he had thought about a bold political move, instead of desperately trying to avoid his sister and her haunting beauty.

Sans looked at him, suspicion in her eyes, if that had indeed been his real reasoning.

“You could have told me that before the council,” she said.

“I thought, Littlefinger would not see through this, if you argued genuinely against my leaving,” Jon said.

Sansa scoffed. “You should know, that I could have played along easily.”

“Of course,” he said. “But I did not know, if I could play along, if I had known that you were not genuinely angry. Littlefinger had to see me distressed at your arguing.”

Sansa laughed and Jon could see that she had bought his reasons. “You seem to know yourself inside out. Littlefinger did indeed insinuate that you are not good at putting down people who argue against you.”

 

“It’s better to hear everyone out, I can’t think of everything. That’s what councils are for.”

Sansa nodded. “I told him so as well. Father always listened what people had to say.”

Jon drew a breath.

“This will work only when Littlefinger thinks, that he has a chance to lure you to his side. When I leave tomorrow, you must act aloof, as if you barely repress your anger. For now, I came to say goodbye.” He knew, that he was tempting his own resolution, but he was not strong enough to leave Sansa without being sure, she was not cross.

“O Jon,” Sansa sighed, and suddenly she moved into his arms. “You’ll go with all my good wishes and blessings.” This time, Jon was sure, that her eyes were glistening with tears.

It was so sweet to hold her in his arms, that he wanted this moment to last forever. He tried to relish in the feeling of Sansa being near, of her smell in his nose, of the sound of her breathing in his ear. All too soon, she left his arms and looked earnestly at his face.

She smiled bravely and gave him a kiss on the cheek that made him feel as if a flame had touched him.

“I still don’t like it. But I understand that reasoning. Leave Littlefinger to me. I’ll handle him and when you come back with your alliance we will find a way to endure.”

She raised a finger. “And don’t you dare to stay in the South!”

Jon’s heart was about to break when she turned to leave. She walked with confident strides and Jon looked after her, pressing his lips together to keep himself from calling her name, touching the branch of the tree, where her forehead had been, pressing it to root him, so that he would not run after her.

For a moment, he thought, that she was about to turn her head, and suddenly a coppery taste was in his mouth and he realised that he had bitten his tongue in his effort to keep silent.

Ghost found him later when it had grown almost dark, still standing at the tree, battling with himself. Jon bent down to pet his direwolf and scratched his ears. For a moment, he allowed himself to bury his face in Ghost’s fur.

“I’ll have to leave you here boy. A boat is no place for a direwolf. Look after her for me, will you?”, he said. “Protect her!”

Ghost licked his hand and pressed shortly to his side, then he trod away, trailing where Sansa had left and Jon walked slowly after him, his heart heavy.


End file.
